Pieces of Us
by vratsababe
Summary: A collection of short stories centered around the Briefs family, namely Vegeta and Bulma . Contains stupid humor, cutesy lovey-dovey moments, Vegeta acting like a jerk, Bulma bossing people around, and all sorts of other shenanigans!
1. Sense of Scents

Sooooo, as I feel is necessary with some of my fics, I shall offer a short explanation of what this is: This particular story is a collection of chapters that are short stories in themselves. They will all be in the same universe, will all center around the Briefs, and will usually be either romance, comedy, or a combination of the two.

Happy reading! I love reviews! :D

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Vegeta entered through the back door of Capsule Corporation at the very end of the day. The sun was almost completely down and the chaos before dinner was already beginning. Mrs. Briefs was cooking away at dinner, Dr. Briefs was having a beer while watching Mrs. Briefs cook, and Bulma was nowhere to be seen... yet. As soon as this realization hit the Saiyan prince, she rounded the corner with an armload of tools and almost walked straight into him.

"Dammit, Woman! Watch where you're going!" he growled. All he wanted at the moment was to shower and begin to relax a little before dinner.

"Well, excuse me!" Bulma fired back, shifting the tools in her arms. Her face was smudged with oil and her usually fragrant scent was diminished from the smell of exhaust and other byproducts of machinery. While he was training, she must have spent the entire day in the garage making repairs. She hadn't even bothered to put on makeup, not that he really minded or cared; it was simply unusual. She scowled at him just the same with or without. "You know, I have been working all day making repairs to the stupid bots you keep breaking. You could at least use your manners and apologize for snapping at me like a pig-headed jerk!"

Vegeta simply smirked and continued on down the hallway, brushing past her on his way. She nearly lost a grip on the tools and shouted after him for that. For such a small earthling she certainly packed a nice set of lungs. He was sure that if she kept on yelling he would be able to hear her all the way in the bathroom connected to his bedroom. He chuckled a little under his breath as he entered the room and slid the door shut. A shower sounded so incredibly inviting after such an intense day of training. He felt like he really had taken great strides toward his goal since he had been training in the gravity capsule. His muscles ached in that familiar, satisfying way that he had grown accustomed to feeling after every workout. Indeed, he would surpass Kakarott...

No water!? He turned the faucets on the shower on and off but no water came out. How could it be broken? _Great..._ he thought. _I'll have to ask the woman to fix it. Then I'll have to hear her bitch and moan about it for another week or so. This wasn't my doing either... _he massaged his forehead with an ungloved hand and slammed the shower door hard enough for it to rattle loudly in its casings. _At least I didn't break that too._

"Woman! Hey!" he called, poking his head out of the bathroom door. "Woman!"

"For Kami's sake, Vegeta! My name is Bulma. I don't know why you're so allergic to using it!" Bulma yelled back, ascending the stairs. "And don't even think I am coming up here for you, by the way. I left something in my room."

"Now that you're up here, the shower is broken," Vegeta remarked with a sneer. He imitated her in a high voice, "and don't even think I am the one who broke it because I came up here and it was like that already."

Bulma stood with her arms akimbo, staring daggers at him. "You're such a smartass. How did you break it?"

"Were you not listening to what I just said? It was like that when I came up here."

"I haven't heard _that_ excuse from you before."

Vegeta sighed as she walked past him and fiddled with the faucets for a minute. She then stuck her hands in her pockets and leaned up against the tile wall. "Yep. It's broken. I'll have to fix it when I'm not so swamped with scorched training bots. You can use my shower for today. I'll work on it later."

"Your shower?" Vegeta asked, raising a brow. "Interesting."

"What? It's not like I'm going to go in there and shower with you. It looks the same as yours. You won't even notice a difference," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "Follow me."

In all the time he had been at Capsule Corporation, he had never been in Bulma's room. As soon as he stepped in, it was overwhelming how everything smelled just like she did all the time. Her laundry was scattered all over her room like her laundry basket had exploded. Piles of magazines sat at the end of her bed, photos lined her headboard, and blueprints covered her desk. It surprised him that he couldn't smell any traces of the earthling she fancied so much. He knew they had been having problems and just because he hadn't seen the weakling around recently didn't mean she hadn't seen him. Vegeta spent so much time training that he didn't even see a lot of Bulma some weeks. He lingered behind her for a second to look at the pictures on her headboard. There were plenty of pictures of her with people he didn't know, some of her and her parents, and one of her and a much younger Kakarott with the dragonballs but none of Yumchow (or whatever his name was). Perhaps they had decided to call it quits? Bulma noticed Vegeta was lagging behind and stepped back out of her bathroom.

"That last one is me and Goku when we were kids," she said, leaning against the doorway. As if he needed telling...

"I noticed," he remarked. Slowly, he backed away from the bedside and followed Bulma into the bathroom. This room was just as messy as the bedroom. Her makeup covered the counters, some spilled on the tiles as well, but at least her laundry was mostly piled up next to the toilet. How could she be so messy in her own living space?

"Here's a towel. The controls are the same. I see you didn't grab anything from your shower so you can use my shampoo and stuff," Bulma noted as she handed him a fluffy white towel. "Please don't break it."

"I didn't break the other one!" Vegeta fired back defensively as she closed the door behind her. "And I'm not going to use your shampoo," he added, though she was out of earshot. He shook his head and set the towel down on the closed toilet seat. He looked a little closer at her counters, his lip slightly curled in disgust. She had more makeup than he could ever fathom a use for. Brushes, tubes, bottles, and other mysterious packages absolutely covered the tile counters. Pots of open shadows sat open, staring up at him curiously, and droplets of ivory foundation stuck hard to the counter top. He shuttered a little before turning away and nearly slipping on something on the floor. He had stepped on a little pink lace bra, but kicked it away furiously once he recognized exactly what it was. Women wore such tiny excuses for garments sometimes.

Finally, he removed his training clothes and stepped into the hot shower. Immediately he felt somewhat at ease as the water ran over his aching muscles. He attempted to clear his mind, inhaling the steam, but he was somewhat distracted by the overwhelming scent of the room. Regardless of it being a bathroom, it smelled so strongly of the blue-haired woman, of Bulma. He had been holding his eyes shut against the water but opened them to observe the contents of the shower. Everything was so brightly colored from her body wash to her shampoo to her razor and shaving cream. What was the purpose of making everything so goddamn colorful? He picked up her shampoo and opened it, pouring some in his hand to smell it. It had a very light scent that was very familiar. _Lilac Breeze_, he read on the container. _Lightly scented. Good for color treated hair. _He set that bottle down and picked up her body wash. Without even popping the lid off he could tell this was the scent he usually smelled on her. It wasn't as enticing on it's own without mixing with her body chemistry, but it still smelled like her. He couldn't tell why but he wanted to keep smelling it. He poured some into his hands and rubbed them together, the scent filling the shower stall.

Quickly, he stuck his hands under the hot stream of water and held them there until they began to redden from the heat and water pressure. He then turned the water on cold and stood motionless beneath the showerhead. He knew that he was somewhat attracted to Bulma, even if he couldn't figure out exactly how or why, but he was able to force the urges and thoughts into the back of his mind with his blood-boiling desire to reach Super Saiyan. Just standing there in her shower in her room was slightly distracting, however.

A short time later, Vegeta went downstairs and sat down at the table with Bulma to eat. Her parents had taken their food outside to eat on the patio but Bulma's intense dislike of mosquitoes kept her indoors for meals. He grabbed a plate and loaded it up with a ridiculous amount of food and began to eat. Bulma was already enjoying a few potstickers. "I can smell that you found my body wash. It's very pretty on you, Vegeta," she remarked, winking at him playfully.

"It fell and the top came off. I just picked it up," he said in annoyed reassurance. It got on everything."

"I was just playing with you. Don't worry." She poured herself a glass of guava juice and sipped on it in the tension-filled silence. She watched Vegeta eat until he looked up at her and she quickly looked away. She then looked back up and waited for his gaze to return.

"What are you staring at?" he growled, irritated.

"Do you want to go grab some ice cream after dinner?" she asked.

He stuffed a potsticker in his mouth, chewed, swallowed and replied, "Sure."


	2. Snuggling and Warriors

Installment 2: Snuggling and Warriors

A/N: Thanks to all my readers so far. Your hits are much appreciated. :) More reviews = More chapters! Also, this chapter makes up the number 77 prompt for my fanfic100 challenge! Check it out on my livejournal.

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It was well past midnight and Bulma had just got off the phone. Her eyes were red from rubbing them and her mascara had run all down her face from crying. She had been talking to Yamcha for hours, trying to work out their issues but she realized it just wasn't going to happen. They were friends, good friends, friends with benefits... but just not boyfriend and girlfriend anymore. There was a time when she had imagined herself marrying him, but those times were fleeting. It wasn't in the cards right now, anyway. The androids would be arriving in a few short years and it would be just terrible to get married and have the chance of becoming a widow in a short time anyway. Plus, there were bigger issues on the table besides the androids (at least pertaining to their relationship).

What she wanted now was ice cream. Ice cream could fix anything. As a matter of fact, she had a pint of cookie dough ice cream in the fridge. It's almost as if she had anticipated the break up when she had been shopping earlier. Now it was yelling, screaming for her. It would be rude to object its callings.

She emerged from the kitchen with a pint of ice cream in her hands and a spoon in her mouth as she pried the container apart. "You're awake," stated a voice in the darkness and she dropped the spoon in surprise, which would have been better than swallowing it.

"What the hell! You nearly scared me to death!" Bulma scolded, feeling around for the spoon in the dark living room. "Why are you just sitting here in the dark anyway? Are you trying to give me a heart attack or something?"

Vegeta crouched down in the darkness beside her, his fingers barely brushing over hers on the cold tile. "That wasn't my intent," Vegeta said, finding the spoon before her and lightly tapping her nose with it before standing. "Now that you mention it, however, it seems like a great bonus."

Bulma stood, snatching the spoon from him and huffing. "You wouldn't know what to do without me. You wouldn't have anyone around to provide you with as much entertainment as I do."

"It would be a lot quieter around here for a while but I think I could manage. I have spent many of my years completely isolated," he remarked as he turned the lights on. Now incredibly self conscious, Bulma turned and headed straight back for the kitchen so he couldn't see just how much of a mess she was. After all, she hadn't thought that she would run into anyone at such a late hour. Usually even Vegeta was asleep by now. She just wanted her ice cream and a sappy movie so she could just cry about being single for the first time in years. Now she was standing at the sink in the kitchen, frantically trying to reduce the redness and puffiness on her face because of Vegeta. She wasn't sure exactly why she was caring but she did. Perhaps it was because she didn't want him to make any snide comments about how she was puffed up like a sea creature or because she didn't want him asking stupid questions about why she was all red or whatnot. Vegeta rarely, if ever, asked stupid questions, though. She heard his footsteps on the kitchen tile before they stopped.

"You had a fight with your mate," he stated. She turned to see him leaning casually in the doorframe, his arms crossed as usual.

She shook her head. "He isn't my mate. He never was and he never will be. _Yamcha_ was my boyfriend... until this evening."

Vegeta was silent for a moment though she could feel his eyes linger on her. She kept her eyes focused on the sink and tried to fight the awkward feeling that was now hanging so heavily in the room. Vegeta cleared his throat. "You really don't need ice cream. In your over-emotional state, you will eat the entire thing and it'll give you a stomachache."

Bulma sniffed. "I don't know why you would care. You should just let me wallow in my self-pity for a little while."

"Sure, wallow away," he said plainly but walked past her to the pantry. Curiously, she inched toward the door but didn't make it quite there before he emerged with two bottles of wine. "Take this. You look terrible, by the way."

Bulma sighed. She would suspect an imposter if Vegeta didn't insult her in this moment. She followed him back into the living room and took the opposite side of the couch he sat down on. He opened his bottle easily with a corkscrew and handed it to Bulma, who struggled. After observing her for a moment, he silently held out his hand and she gave him the bottle and opener. Any other day she could open a wine bottle faster than she could pronounce the name of the wine but the emotional stress had her understandably distracted. He handed her the opened bottle of Zinfandel as he took a large swig of his own. She wasn't actually a fan of Zinfandel, but because Vegeta had taken a step to reach out to her in a sense, she wasn't about to refuse it. In a strange way she had harbored feelings for him for a long while, even before they received word from the purple-haired kid from the future. She had been attracted to him, not necessarily in love but in lust and curiosity. He wasn't as tall as Yamcha or caring like her ex was, but he was intelligent, powerful, and good looking to boot. He had a natural exotic scent that attracted her and even when he was drenched in sweat from locking himself in the gravity capsule for days on end she wasn't turned away from his scent. She had read something in a medical textbook years ago about pheromones and body chemistry; it must be related to that.

Vegeta coughed and Bulma's thoughts returned to the room. In the time that she had been staring idly at the carpet, lost in thought, the saiyan had downed half of his bottle. He said to her, "Drink up."

Bulma re-situated herself on the couch so she could more easily talk to Vegeta face to face, not that he would necessarily turn to talk to her. They had learned to talk over the year they had been living together even if their actual conversations were few and far between. She took a large gulp of the wine before attempting to say anything. "Vegeta?" she begun and he turned his head to look at her. "Do you feel lonely here on Earth?"

There was a small pause before he responded, "I have far more important things to worry about now. I have my training to focus on."

"No, seriously. I know your entire race was destroyed and I can't even imagine how tough that must be. That would be like if Earth blew up and I was sent to your planet," Bulma said.

"You would die immediately," he said quickly. "The gravity would crush you."

Bulma rolled her eyes and sighed. "What I meant is that you would expect me to feel somewhat alone. I feel alone right now... I don't want you to feel alone too."

"How can you feel alone?" Vegeta asked pointedly. "As you can see, I am sitting here on the same couch as you. Your parents are upstairs. There are plenty of beings around you. It is silly for you to be upset about freeing yourself of that loser."

Bulma sniffed. These were probably the nicest accidental comfort words Vegeta had ever given her. Every once in a while he would say something that surprised her, even if he didn't think he was doing her any good. She scooted up close to him and set her head on his shoulder. Immediately he tensed up, but didn't push her away. "Thanks, Vegeta. I really appreciate having you around."

"Yeah, well..." he began, mumbling, but didn't continue. She wrapped her arms around one of his large, muscular biceps and snuggled even closer in to him. He remained incredibly rigid but still didn't move away. He finally said, "What are you doing?"

A little bit startled, Bulma wasn't sure exactly what to say. It wasn't often that the outspoken scientist was trapped into a corner but it did happen. "Must be the wine."

He looked at her bottle and she had hardly made a dent out of it. "I didn't know you were such a lightweight."

"Don't you like snuggling, Vegeta?" she asked, now pretending she was drunk, perhaps to have an excuse for letting her inner feelings out. "Have you ever snuggled with anyone before?"

Vegeta downed the rest of his bottle as he began to sense danger. "Warriors don't snuggle or cuddle or do any of that nonsensical stuff. It's a sign of weakness."

"See? You and I both have skewed visions of stuff." Now she was beginning to wonder if she really was drunk off less than a glass of wine. "I think that being alone makes me weak and you think that snuggling makes you weak. Isn't that silly?"

Vegeta looked at her like she had just sprouted a hundred tiny green tentacles all over her face. "I don't think... what is wrong with you?"

Bulma let go of Vegeta and sunk back into the couch with her bottle of wine. One swig into the bottle and she started to cry. "I'm sorry. I'm such a mess over this whole breakup thing. I wish I could say it was my idea but it wasn't. Yamcha found someone else and he thinks that I have too."

Perhaps the biggest reason Yamcha wanted to break up was because he thought she had feelings for Vegeta. The girl he was "with" was really just a friend with benefits. He didn't care about her and he let her know but he said he noticed the way Bulma looked at Vegeta. She hadn't ever looked at Yamcha that way and he knew it. It wasn't a lie. Bulma knew she was attracted to Vegeta in some way, even if he treated her terribly. She had imagined things would have progressed farther with Yamcha; she had wanted at some point to get married and have a family. He wasn't ready to settle down, though, and he may not ever be. The fight she had with herself when she allowed her mind to wander to those forbidden fantasies with the Prince was that he definitely wouldn't want to settle down. That was the thought that kept her in her place. Now that Yamcha was out of the picture she didn't care what he wanted.... as was apparent by her activity just now.

The fight that Vegeta was dealing with now was what to do about the emotional female sitting next to him on the couch. All of the women he had dealt with in space had either been warriors from other planets that Frieza had controlled or had been on planets he had annihilated. He had been raised by his mother up until she died giving birth to his younger brother but at such a young age he couldn't even really remember what she looked like. Needless to say, he had never dealt with a woman in this situation. She was no warrior and she wasn't his mother; it was a shame she didn't come with some sort of an instruction manual. Apparently she liked when he talked to her or even just listened to her... why did he care? Warriors are not psychiatric doctors. They are not responsible for comforting Earth women.

With great difficulty, he reached out a hand and set it on her shoulder. She looked up at him in surprise, wiping at her eyes. He was offering her a silent invitation that she took. She scooted up close to him and wrapped her arms around his strong core. He rested his arm on her still hesitantly, still thinking this snuggling this was far beneath him but she did feel very nice tucked away next to him. Some moments passed in perfect silence before her breathing became heavy. As the wine really began to hit his bloodstream his lids became too heavy to hold up and he leaned his head against the back of the couch. _Whatever..._ he thought.

The next morning when Mrs. Brief passed through the living room to make breakfast she saw the two still slumbering on the couch. She squealed before quickly covering her mouth and dashed off to get her camera. Once she had it, she snapped a quick picture and quietly left the room. Only she would know that she had the picture... at least until she accidentally let it slip to Bulma and that picture joined the others on her headboard.


	3. Between the Sheets

I was working on this story for days... I hope you all enjoy it!

Also... have you all been watching Dragonball Z Kai on Nicktoons Network? It premiered this week and I have to say that I'm digging it. :D

Review! Leave me lots of good feedback and it will inspire me to write more!

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Before the androids and the business with Cell, it didn't really matter that they didn't share a room. When Vegeta felt like it, he would join Bulma in her bed or he would invite her to his. Oftentimes he trained too late or didn't want to be woken up by the baby. Other times he was traveling through space, trying to obtain the level of the legendary Super Saiyan. Of course it bothered Bulma that she and Vegeta had a child together and lived together without always sleeping together, but she did her best to understand his need to train. After all, if he didn't care about her and Trunks's well being he wouldn't train at all. He told her it was solely for the thrill of battle, but she knew otherwise. All of that was over now, anyway. No one had popped out at the end of the Cell Games to say "We'll be back in three years to kill all of you, by the way. Get to training so it'll be more fun to see you fail." Hopefully now they could enjoy some peace. She and Vegeta were getting to spend more time together with Trunks without the burden of the androids ahead. Life was good.

It came to her attention that they needed a bedroom together when she began thinking about a toddler bed for Trunks. She was putting a great deal of time and energy into a new bedroom for him, constantly rebuilding training bots for Vegeta, and working as an engineer for her father's company: What was one more project? She worked best when she was multitasking. She would talk to Vegeta and see what he thought. Since the Cell Games ended he hadn't slept in his room for more than napping during the day.

As she went through her workday, she thought more and more about the project. She hadn't redone her room since she was in her early twenties. It showed too. Her walls were a very pale lavender with a white border. All of the furniture was white, including the heavy, boxy headboard that she had littered with pictures from her life. The comforter was the only thing that was significantly different from when she initially decorated. She had first bought a bubblegum pink comforter with purple stripes to match the walls, replaced it later with a solid white comforter when she was with Yamcha, and finally got rid of that one for a cream satin one just before she began seeing Vegeta. The walls were still hideously purple. The carpet still had nail polish stains from her teenage years. Even the tiles in the bathroom were ugly! Vegeta had never commented on any of these things; she attributed this to the fact that he had slept in much less glamorous spaces and had no interest in home décor. Knowing his need to criticize, however, she could almost bet that he thought the whole room was disgusting.

Bulma sat up in her desk chair and looked around the lab. Her father wasn't around, but was probably tinkering with something in the garage. She wheeled back from the desk and peered out the door. There was no movement in the hall either. Her mother was watching Trunks and Vegeta was training. She was alone on this floor of the house, so she couldn't be reprimanded for straying from her work. As far as her father was concerned, she was still drawing up plans for a new Capsule Beach House. She was just going to take a little break from it anyway. She opened one of the desk drawers and pulled out a clean sheet of graphing paper...

Before she knew it, her father knocked at the lab door and she nearly knocked everything off her desk in surprise. She had been so involved in sketching and calling furniture stores and getting someone to do the carpet that she had lost track of the time. It was nearly six in the evening; she had spent a good four hours on this bedroom idea. Somewhat embarrassed, she got up and went to the door rather than just calling back to her father.

"Bulma, dearest," Dr. Brief said kindly, a cigarette hanging lazily from his mouth. "You've been working hard, eh? I haven't seen you since lunch. Your mother has just finished dinner and Vegeta has been watching Trunks."

Bulma raised an eyebrow. "Vegeta's watching Trunks? Man, I must have really been engrossed."

"Oh yes. He took Trunks outside to teach him to fly," Dr. Brief said, chuckling.

"You have got to be kidding me!" Bulma nearly screamed. "He's barely a year and a half old! He can't fly!" She passed by her father and hurried down to the main living room where she hoped to find Vegeta with their son. Then, she tried the kitchen.

"The boys are in the back yard, Sweetie," Mrs. Brief sang, vigorously stirring a pot of spaghetti sauce. "It's the most adorable thing I've ever seen!"

Bulma sighed before waking to the back door and peering out. Vegeta and little Trunks were standing near the gravity chamber. Vegeta was talking to Trunks and demonstrating something for him, though Bulma couldn't tell what it was. Curious, she pushed open the door and walked across the grass to where they were.

"You need to focus your energy," Vegeta said simply. Trunks stared up to him blankly. Vegeta knelt down and held out his palm for his son. Vegeta concentrated a small bit of his energy into his hand, causing a small white ball to form in his palm. Trunks was amazed by this and reached out for it, but Vegeta pushed his tiny hand away. "Not yet. Perhaps you still are too young..."

"Of course he is, Vegeta," Bulma said, crossing her arms and smirking. "He isn't even talking in full sentences yet. He's just over eighteen months old. Just because the greatest fighter in the universe is his father doesn't mean he's ready to fight the bad guys now."

Vegeta picked Trunks up before standing. Bulma knew how against holding Trunks he had been, saying that it lessened the child's sense of independence and self-reliance, but he begun to soften his approach to parenting only slightly. "I suppose," he said casually. "I thought I would at least give it a try. You never know with children. They're often more powerful than we give them credit for."

"They're always more powerful than we give them for. Children are little mysteries," she said, brushing Trunks's hair back from his eyes. "Now, let's go inside. My mother has dinner just about ready."

"Good. I'm starving," Vegeta remarked, shifting Trunks in his arms. Trunks squirmed, pushing at his father's arms until Vegeta eventually put him down. Usually he wouldn't struggle if his father was holding him. Trunks idolized Vegeta already. He would oftentimes reject Bulma's company to see his father, which made little sense to her because she had raised him, sometimes alone, since he was born. Now, he walked happily between his parents back to the house.

"I started a new project today," Bulma said cheerily. Vegeta gave no recognition, meaning that she should continue unless he stopped her. "I am going to remodel my bedroom so it is _our_ bedroom. I know it's outdated and far too young for either of us. Most importantly, I want it to look like it's shared between the two of us."

They stopped just short of the door and Bulma took both of Vegeta's hands in hers. They now faced each other eye to eye. "I am glad to have you in my life still, Vegeta," Bulma said honestly. Vegeta's gaze never left her eyes. "You didn't have to come back. You could have left."

"Well," he began, breaking eye contact and looking off into the darkening sky. "I certainly couldn't have gone back to my planet. It doesn't leave me with very many options."

"Still," she said, dropping one of his hands and reaching for the doorknob. Pausing again, she turned and gave him a small kiss on the cheek before dropping his hand and leading the way inside.

Bulma wasted no time getting her project underway. Before the week was out, she had packed up all the stuff in her room and put the boxes in Vegeta's old room. Thankfully, the room that would be Trunks's was an empty guest room just down the hall. No real packing was needed there. Saturday was the big move in day. Her parents would be out of town, her assistant, Geo, would be entertaining Trunks, and there would be a large crew of men coming in and out of her house to get all of the work done. She had hired as many people as possible to ensure that the job would be done in one day. She went to bed after setting her alarm for 7:30. The crews would begin rolling in at 9 and would be there well into the evening. Three rooms (including the master bathroom), two new carpets, one new tiled floor, new lighting fixtures, three coats of paint per room, all new furniture... the list went on. Held tightly in Vegeta's arms, she fell asleep with all of these things still running through her head.

Something was tapping on her forehead. She could faintly hear something mumbling but her sleep-clouded brain couldn't quite comprehend what it was.

"Mmmmm...mmmmm...mmmmaaaammmm..." The mumbling was becoming clearer. "mmmamma... mmmmmmaaammmammmm..."

She opened one eye to see Trunks craning over her, his hands held over her forehead. "Momma!" he exclaimed once he could see the whites of her eyes. "Momma momma momma. Awake!"

"Trunks," Bulma mumbled, sitting up and pulling Trunks into her arms. "It's not time to be awake yet. It's only..." she glanced at the clock, "six."

"Awake Momma!" he said happily, wrapping his arms around her middle and hugging her. He was so precious that she couldn't help but sigh and kiss the top of his head lovingly.

"You better be quiet or you'll wake Daddy," Bulma whispered. She looked over and Vegeta was faced away from her, hogging a great deal of the blankets. "You know how grumpy he'll be if he doesn't get enough sleep!"

"Too late," Vegeta said in a low, groggy growl. He turned to face the two of them, resting on his elbows. "He was smacking you on the forehead and calling for you for a good fifteen minutes or so."

Bulma looked at Trunks, who looked rather proud of himself, and then back at Vegeta. "I'm sorry. I'll go make us all some breakfast. You can go back to sleep if you want, Vegeta."

Vegeta turned over, taking the rest of the blankets with him and Bulma scooped Trunks up to take with her to the kitchen. '_This is going to be a long day,'_ she thought.

And she was right.

The painters had brought the wrong truck with them, meaning that the paints they had with them were meant for the exterior of an elderly couple's house. When they opened the cans, all they had with them were cans and cans of burnt orange and brown. The flooring specialists ran just short of tiles for the bathroom, leaving about a foot of floor uncovered before they had to have some men from the factory bring over more. The furniture company had to leave everything in the entryway because the rooms weren't painted yet, meaning that Bulma had to call in reinforcements to help move things around ten in the evening. (What were interns for anyway?) Finally, at a quarter past eleven, Bulma took a sleeping Trunks from Geo and put him in his new big boy bed. His new room was childlike, while still being tasteful. The walls were a light green, the furniture was all dark mahogany, and the décor featured simply drawn dinosaurs. She tucked him in and turned off the lamp (still leaving on the nightlight, of course) and left her tiny son to sleep.

Vegeta was waiting for her outside their bedroom door, leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed and chin up, staring at some invisible point on the wall. She walked in front of him and he looked down at her.

"You ready to see this?" she asked, leaning forward and holding her finger above the button that would open the door.

"I suppose so. I had glimpses of it all day, remember?" he replied monotonously. "It's not too much of a surprise now."

"You know, you never let me have any fun at all, Vegeta..." Bulma sighed and opened the door, allowing Vegeta to step in before her. The whole room smelled like fresh paint, diffused only slightly by the vanilla candles she had lit on either bedside table. Their room finally looked like an adult room. The walls were a light jade with ivory and gold accents here and there. The furniture was a medium wood and included a large chest, a vanity, two bedside tables, a bookshelf, and a beautiful four poster bed. All of the pieces looked hand carved and were incredibly intricate. Bulma was incredibly proud of herself for picking out the set. Vegeta walked around, looking at everything closely until he stopped at last at the bed. He ran a hand over the ivory and gold comforter before turning back to Bulma.

"It's very nice," he said simply. She wouldn't have asked for a larger reaction; frankly, this one was more than she expected.

"I'm very glad you like it," she said dreamily, collapsing across the large bed. "It's not just for me, but it's for you too. This is our space to share together."

He climbed onto the opposite side of the bed and crawled towards her. When he reached her, he pressed his lips to hers strongly. She leaned in to him, thirsty for what he had to offer her. Yes, this was definitely worth the stress of remodeling...

In the faint light of the moon outside streaming in through the cracks in the curtains, Bulma scooted up close to Vegeta. She laid her head on his strong bare torso and listened to his deep breaths and his heartbeat. He wrapped one arm around her protectively. Her eyes remained open, though she felt like she was inside of a dream with him. She could feel that he was still awake but nearly jumped when he suddenly spoke.

"You want to get married." It wasn't a question; it was a statement. She blinked a few times, trying to pick up a connotation, but couldn't find one. She sat up partially to look into his eyes. He looked serious; that's all she could read from him.

"Do I want to marry you? Of course I do," she replied. "You're not only my lover but you're the father of my child."

He sat silent for a few minutes, looking at some point out of her eyesight. Then, he yawned and returned his attention to her. "I suppose we should get married then, by Earth standards at least."

"By Earth standards, is this a proposal?" she asked, a smile beginning to work across her face. In the dim light she saw him nod and she flung herself back into his arms. "Oh Vegeta, you don't know how happy this makes me!"

"Perhaps not but I'm sure I'll soon find out. You'll be throwing yourself a party any day now," he said blandly. Then, he sweetly kissed the top of her head. Bulma found it interesting that a man was proposing to her who had never once said he loved her. (not in the form of the infamous three word statement...) Vegeta wasn't like any man she had ever known, though, and he proved that every day she was with him.

Just as she was falling asleep in her fiance's arms, the baby monitor sounded her son's tremendous wailing. She grumbled, got out of bed, put on her bathrobe, and headed down the hall. Every good thing must have a loud interruption, if not an ending.


End file.
